


The Raven's Tale

by SerenaDarrin



Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: Baldur's Gate II, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:54:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27156202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenaDarrin/pseuds/SerenaDarrin
Summary: The journey and adventures of Elshana of Candlekeep
Relationships: Female Charname/Anomen Delryn
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter One

The Raven’s Tale  
Chapter One:

I remembered little of my capture, and even less of my captivity. Only fragments, like a disjointed story, and for that I would be forever grateful. I cannot think that anyone would willingly want to remember the hell I went through. I did not pretend to know what my captor wanted. I did not even have a name for him. Yet there he was, with his bright blue eyes behind that strange, stitched together, mask. He called me “Godchild,” and that was one of the few things I could understand in my world of blood and pain. For that was what I was: I was a Child of Bhaal, a child of a dead God. 

Yet each time he said that, I would weep, for I did not want that name. I scarcely felt the pain of his knives, but when I heard him call me that, it hurt far more then the torment of my battered body. I did not want what I had been given by birth. I did not want my heritage.

“Ellie?” A voice called in the dimness. I should have known it . . . but the memory slid away like a handful of sand. 

“Ellie? Elshana, wake up!” The voice again, sounding far more urgent. I tried to track its owner back through my shattered memory, and returned with an image of brown eyes, set in a face with a mischievous smile and surrounded by a halo of brilliant pink hair. Imoen.

“Elshana, please wake up.” The urgency was obvious, as was the tremble that denoted her fear. I tried to respond, producing an unintelligible response. 

“Ellie! I wasn‘t sure -- I thought he‘d --” My eyes saw the outline of her face, drawn as a series of jagged blurs. I sat up, bracing my hands on the floor of my cage, for support and to stop the world from spinning around me, and nearly fell, as it became clear that my right arm would not support my weight. 

“You thought he’d killed me?” I asked, managing to form a wan grin for her sake thought even that small smile hurt. Everything hurt. I had never heard her so fearful, in any of our previous battles together. My voice was rough from screaming and disuse, but I smiled at hearing myself. Sitting back up, I grabbed on to one of the metal bars that formed my cage, until I was sure my legs would support my weight. Maybe. “I’m not that easy to kill.” I added again, and was relieved to see her smile, briefly. 

“Ellie, what --” She stared at me, her eyes wide with . . . horror or revulsion, I could not tell which. I knew the sight I must have presented. My clothing was ripped and torn, and my legs were shaking. My black hair, which I normally wore in a braided coronet, had been singed and burned in one of his ’experiments,’ and now tumbled about my pointed ears in a ragged, burned mess. He had healed my major injuries, so as to leave me alive, but I still showed the marks along my arms and legs. Though I wasn't shackled now, it was obvious I had been. For what purpose, I wasn't sure, the memories were still mostly a blur. I hoped they would remain so. 

I absently ran the back of my left hand along my face, and was surprised when Imoen grabbed my hand, pulling it down. 

“Don’t!“ She cried. My cheek was swollen and a deep gash ran across my cheekbone. It had happened some time ago, as it was no longer bleeding, but I could have easily re-opened it. We both knew it would leave a prominent scar. I could not remember exactly how I had earned it. Imoen shook her head, and grabbed my good arm, helping me from the cage that had been my home for . . . how long had it been?

I straightened, holding my right hand close to my body. I got my clear look at her, trying not to lean too hard on her shoulder, as my eyes began to process what I was seeing. It was like I was waking from a fever. Her hair was still dyed its shocking pink, but the pink had faded to a washed out pastel. Both her face and hair were covered in dirt and grime. I could see the tear-tracks that had been left in the dirt smudges on her cheeks. Above her eye was a scar I didn’t remember; had she had that before? I couldn’t remember. Her cheeks had hollowed, even from our last harrowing days in the Undercity of Baldur's Gate.

“I’m glad you’re here, Ellie.” She said, giving me a light hug. “I couldn’t bear the thought of trying to get out of here on my own.”

“Yeah,” I was unsure what else to say. “Yeah,” I repeated, “I’m here, Immie.” As things began to fit back together in my jumbled head, I remembered something. “Where are the others?”

“I saw Jaheira and Minsc over there,” Imoen pointed with a shaking hand around the corner of my cell block, “other then that, I don’t know.” 

My disorientation had passed, and now I locked my half-numb mind onto a single goal: getting out. It kept me from thinking too much about the other things, about what might have happened to the others, about . . . . everything.

“How’d you get out?” I turned, a sudden suspicion hitting me like a club. This was too easy. In a normal prison, we would have been caught already by the guards. Either my captor felt he had no need for guards, or he was too foolish to have them, or . . . or we were meant to escape. 

“I -- there were men in black -- they were fighting our captor, I think -- and -- the lock on my cell was damaged in the fighting -- I managed to pick it, and --and here I am.” I had never heard Imoen stammering so much before. 

“Are you okay, Immie?” I asked, my concern for my friend spilling into my desire for escape. 

“I -- I still hear him, Ellie,” she whispered, her head bowed. “I can’t stop thinking about what he showed me -- what he did . . .”

I grabbed her into a one-armed hug. “Don’t worry,” I promised her, “we’ll get out of here.” I only wished I could be as sure as I hoped I sounded. I turned my mind back onto another piece of information. “Where are the others, again?”

She nodded to the far corner, her face far paler then normal, even under the grime. I padded forward, silently. My legs were shaking, my bare feet felt ice-cold against the metal. When I rounded the corner, the first person I saw was sitting, cross-legged, sun-streaked hair spilling over a battered tunic. Her slanted eyes and tapered ears betrayed her half-elven heritage, and yes, I knew her well. My heart lept as I saw her, a second friendly face. 

I gave a weak whistle with my raw throat, and she opened her eyes. A smile spread across her normally stern features, as she stood up, thinner and more worn then I remembered, but still as graceful as a cat. 

“Quickly!” she called, “we must be gone before whoever did this can return.” I half-hobbled, half ran the remainder of the way to her cell, and grabbed her outstretched hand between the cell bars, holding it tight. 

“Jaheira!” I whispered. 

“Yes child. It is I.” Then, unexpectedly, she gave a soft chuckle. “Traveling with you is never dull, child, I can say that.” Despite the chuckle, I saw the concern in her eyes as she looked me up and down. I must have looked a sight. I released her hand. 

“Where’s Khalid?” It took my brain a moment to catch up with what was missing. Kahlid was her husband, and the two of them had been inseparable since the first day I had known them. 

“I do not know, child,” she answered, and I saw a look of worry on her face. “and that does worry me. Though it seems we were all meant for different fates, I would like to know what has become of him.” Typical Jaheira. Stern, serene, seemingly detached; except to those who knew her. I heard the tremble in her voice, though a stranger probably wouldn't

“Yeah.” I said shortly. Khalid, despite his nervous nature, had been a defacto uncle to Imoen and I since we had been children. If anything had happened to him . . . I shook my head and knelt in front of the lock. It was time to apply my less-then-noble skill set and make the next move in getting us out of here. My hands were shaking, but, picking a lock would give me time to sort my head out a little further, steady my hands. But I could see the the thin threads magic dampening the simple mechanisms of the lock. A brutal reminder that not only did I not have my spellbook, or even my lockpicks. My brain felt like it had been put through a washer's mangle, and there was no way I could pick this lock. If I'd still had my long braids, I -might- have been able to salvage a few hairpins and pick the lock that way – though that was more the stuff of tales and stories then actual skill – though, while in theory it was possible to pick a lock with hairpins, it was much, much more difficult. And my hands wouldn't stop shaking. 

“I can’t get you out just yet,” I whispered, feeling for all the world that I was abandoning her to her death by saying those words. “But don’t worry; I’ll get you out somehow.”

I grabbed her hand again for a brief moment in a temporary farewell. I didn't want to leave. I didn't even want to stand up. But I had to. I had to find the key that would open that lock. _Stopped by lack of key. Some dashing rogue you are!_

A roaring, snarling yell came from the cell just next to Jaheira's, I whirled on my feet, the world still spinning, reaching for the hilt of a sword that wasn't there. _Wait, there was a cell there?_ If there was a threat, I would have already been dead. What was wrong with me?

I finished my turn, feeling as clumsy as a newborn foal, and saw a man in the cell beside Jaheira. He was easily twice my height, and had smudged war-paint across most of his face. And the roar was a roar of delight. My shoulders lowered in relief. 

He roared again, throwing his entire body against the door of his cell. “Minsc, calm down!” I whispered, “Do you want to bring others here?”

The berserker warrior stopped, tilted his head. “Little Ellie!” he boomed. I wished he was quieter. Our escape demanded at least some subtlety. But he had never exactly been subtle. At all. “Little Ellie has come to set Minsc and Boo free!” He reached inside a pocket of his ragged, open-fronted vest and pulled out a hamster. “See, Boo? Ellie has come to set us free!” I looked between Minsc and Boo, seeing the wear upon them both. Boo was far from his usual fluffy self, and Minc's cheeks had hollowed since the last memory I had of him. 

Beside me, Imoen screwed up her face. “How did you managed to hide him?”

“Boo is small and evasive, and there is so much of Minsc to search. The evil ones cannot separate Minsc and Boo!” I found the ghost of a smile on my lips. It hurt to smile, and I realized I had a tooth missing, knocked out somehow.

“Ewww, I don’t want to think about that too much.” Imoen said, her face still scrunched, up, her voice rough, but close to laughter. For a moment she had sounded like my old best friend, and I could imagine we were somewhere else. 

“Me neither.” I managed above a whisper this time, and there was a fleeting grin on Imoen's face. This, at least, had an echo of familiarity. If you cannot take your moments of happiness where you find them, then you will have a horribly miserable life. For us, that meant we shared a chuckle while trapped inside a madman’s laboratory. But the grin faded too quickly. 

“Where’s Dynaheir?” I asked. Dynaheir was Minsc’s witch, a wizard whom he had been appointed to guard. I had never gotten the details, but what I did understand was that he had been her sworn protector, and it was some sort of rite-of-passage for him.

“Dynaheir --” his voice broke, his grip on the bars faltered. “I failed her. He killed her while I watched.” It was the most coherent I had ever heard him. And that scared me.“-- Little Ellie had been teaching my witch tricks, she got one foot out of her ropes -- but,” he stood and yelled at the ceiling, “I will avenge her! Evil will pay!” I had never seen him cry before. 

“Easy Minsc. I’ll get you and Jaheira out.” _As soon as I figure out how. Maybe I'll have better luck with this lock –_ But there wasn’t one. The door had been wielded shut, a thin line of metal over where any latch would be, and more within the keyhole There was no magic, it wouldn't be needed when the mechanism of the lock had been filled with metal.

I stared back up, at a loss for what to do next. The huge warrior towered a foot over me, and if he couldn’t break this door by force, what chance did I have? Unless I could really make him furious, tap into his rage . . . but would I be able to calm him down afterwards?

“Well, Minsc,” I paused. “Since my skills are useless against a door with no lock, unless you can get yourself out, I’m going to have to leave you behind.” I felt horrible even saying it. I had already lost one friend here. And to even say the words that I would be leaving others felt wrong. 

“Little Ellie does not intend to let Minsc and Boo go free?!” He was furious, all right. He grabbed the door of his cell. “Little Ellie is running away? No! Such evilness must be kicked in the butt!” He shook harder, and I could see the metal bending in the white-knuckled grip his hands had on the bars. Grabbing the door, he wrenched it clean from its hinges, and ran at me. I backed up, tripped over a spar of metal, and came crashing down on my back. Minsc grabbed me, and picked me up like a child, giving me a crushing hug. “You are a smart one, Little Ellie. You said what you did just to make me mad! Mad enough to break free!” I cried out as my arm was crushed to my side, and he immediately dropped me. I managed to keep my feet by leaning against him like a rag doll. “Oh, Little Ellie is hurt!” 

“It's fine.” I said simply. It would have to be. I was sure it was broken, and could barely move that hand. Honestly, it should have hurt more, and didn't. Some distant part of my brain was worried about that. 

Minsc put both huge hands on my shoulders, putting me back on my feet. He looked right down at me. “You are as smart as Boo sometimes!”

I found my footing again, trying to clear my head of that muddled feeling I seemed to have whenever I spoke with Minsc. “Thanks . . .” It was all I could manage. I turned back to Imoen. “Have you seen any of our stuff?”  
e  
“Yep.” She lead the way, back through the door she had entered. There on a table, stood the best treasure trove I had seen: My spellbook, and some of our old gear, scattered about as though it was fit to be discarded. _Maybe it was._ And my old worn backpack was hanging carelessly over a chair. Like most treasure troves, this one was guarded, though. A creature stood guard over it, looking like a demented child’s doll. It had a body out of proportion to its head, and it was made all of clay. 

“Wow,” whispered Imoen. “A Golem. They’re magic, and real hard to make.” She walked around it, and it didn’t move. “But they’re pretty stupid. If it hasn’t been ordered to keep silent, we could learn a lot from it.”

I asked the Golem a few questions, but quickly found that Imoen was right, it was stupid. It tried to order me to return to my cage, saying “It is the master’s wish,” but it put up no resistance when I outright told it, “No!”

I awkwardly slung the backpack over my good shoulder. Even that light weight seemed heavy now -- and it was practically empty. _How long have we been down here?_ I thought. 

It was Imoen, who I credit with saving Jaheira, since she was the one who found the key to her cell. Once Imoen had let Jaheira out, she ran to me.

“Elshana, child. I am grateful.” She touched me on the arm, and I hissed with pain and and pulled away as she did so.

“It's broken, Elshana.” She said softly.

“I know - “ I spat back. I wasn't some child that she had to tell the obvious to. 

“Then you know it must be set, and healed.”

My brain knew that, so why did I still shy away? I nodded once, sat down on a chair at the table, and held out my arm.

She didn't warn me it was going to hurt. Instead, I heard the familiar chanting of her healing magic. “I want you to save them.” I protested. I didn't know what was going on, where we were, or how much she would need her healing magic later. 

She shook her head. “This will deaden the pain. Then I can set it without you screaming – any more.” She started her whispered chant again. She had a look that I couldn't place on her features, eyes narrowed, lips set and curled slightly back. She reminded me of illuminated sketches of a lioness, defending her cubs that I'd seen once in Candlekeep. The pain vanished, and she kept chanting a soft healing spell as the movement in my hand came back properly. 

“Foolishness, child,” she said, as I stretched out my fingers, touching thumb to each finger in turn _I never quite realized how much I needed my fine dexterity, until right now._ “If you are healed now, you will fight better, and the remaining spells will not be needed.” 

I nodded my thanks, and passed her the chainmail we had found. Her old white quarterstaff fitted back into her hands, and she gave me a slight smile as I passed her Khalid’s sword. “When we find him, you can give it to him.” I told her, and turned away to grab my reclaimed short bow. 

As I strapped a quiver of arrows to my belt, I heard her whisper. “I only wish I knew where he was . . . “


	2. Chapter Two:

The Raven’s Tale

Chapter Two:

I took the lead, the rest of the crew staying behind me. Imoen had begged to take lead, search for traps, but I had overruled her. In her condition, she was liable to miss the crucial small details that were so pivotal to a thief. Her head still ached; I could tell although she tried to hide it. She stumbled on unseen flaws in the floor, and fidgeted nervously with the string of her bow.

As I lead them through the other corridor, the one Imoen hadn’t passed through, we came upon the bodies of three black-clad men, sprawled on the stone floor. I cocked my head. “D’you hear that?”

“N-no, Ellie, what?” Imoen’s brown eyes were wide. I'd always had the better hearing of the two of us, thanks to my elvan heritage.

I held up a hand. “Shh!” Straining my ears, I caught the far-off sounds of combat. Someone was still fighting -- still alive -- in this place.

“I hear it also, child,” Jaheira said, running a grimy hand through her braids, brushing them away from her face.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “Arrow on string, Immie. Everyone else, stand ready. I don’t know what’s going on,” I put a hard edge in my voice, “but I’m not going back into that cage.”

“Me neither,” Imoen echoed, but there was a tremble to her voice. _What has he done to you, Immie?_ We hadn’t been able to find her old studded leather, so she was unarmoured, but I knew that was not the reason for her feeling so vulnerable. We -- her and I -- had been friends for too long. Neither could fool the other. Yet despite that familiarity, I could not fathom what had scared her so much. And that scared me.

Now was not the time to talk, though. Following a string of breadcrumbs, like rats in a maze, I was not in a mood to comfort anyone. I still ached everywhere, and despite Immie’s warning, I found myself running my fingers over the cut on my cheek

“Ellie!” I whirled around, a chastise on the tip of my tongue. _I can’t protect her all the time. If I’m not on guard, she’s got to learn; she can’t rely on me. I don’t trust myself enough right now._ My retort died unspoken. We had all been through hell in the past few days. It wasn’t her fault.

“What is it, Immie?” I answered, making sure that the annoyance was gone from my voice. She jerked her chin towards a side corridor, and peered around the corner. “Ellie,” she called back, “there’s a machine here, it looks like a lightning rod. There’s a switch on the far corner. I don’t know what it does.”

“Anything else?” I asked.

“Yep, there are these little creatures. They sit in the path of the lightning.”

I turned back to the other two and raised my eyebrows in a silent question, then winced as a forgotten cut above my brows gave a painful reminder of its existence.

“Lightning creatures?” I echoed.

“Mephits?” Jaheira suggested.

I considered, “Maybe.” I knew from my own magical studies that mephits were strange little creatures, representing different elemental planes; but what would lightning mephits be doing in this strange maze?

Immie stuck her head back around the corner. “There’s another one. The machine just made it.”

“We’ve got to turn that thing off,” I said. “That switch Immie saw, it could be the ‘off’ switch.” I managed a slight grin. “I’ll just pull that and see what happens.”

Taking a deep breath -- which caused my ribs to ache -- I dropped into a crouch and rolled around the corner. Something went snapping through the air above my head. My skin tingled, but I dove towards the switch, grabbed it, and pulled, hard. My arms trembled and my back hurt, but the lightning had stopped.

The three mephits hovered over me, the lightning still snapping along their clawed hands and winged forms gave enough energy to make the hair on my arms stand on end, even under the layers of grime.

“Ellie, look out!”

I jerked my head to the side, as the creature slammed its hand towards my head. I heard the hiss of arrows, then Jaheira’s foot planted itself in my vision.

“Move, child!” she yelled, “or must you lie there, waiting to be attacked again?”

I rolled to my feet and pulled my sword from its sheath. With my shoulder touching Jaheira’s we beat off the strange creatures until they lay dead.

It was easier to simply slump against Jaheira “Well,” I muttered, taking a deep (and painful) breath, “that was interesting!”

* * *

“Ha ha!” the genie boomed, “so, the one I seek has come here at last! Elshana, I am glad to see you.”

“How do you know my name?” I asked, hearing the edge in my voice, one hand straying to the sword at my waist. Not that it would do any good against a Genie, though, for his form, though solid from the waist up, from the waist down was just a tapering cloud, and I suspected any attack would meet as little resistance as that cloud.

“Your life’s thread burns bright, Elshana. But I cannot give you the answers you seek.”

“That isn’t an answer,” I responded softly, putting my hands on my hips.

“As I said, mortal, I cannot give you what you seek. But may I ask you a question?”

“Why?”

“Because I wish to.” The genie’s deep voice made the statement sound almost threatening. His voice, in its tone, reminded me of my brother’s, Sarevok, though without the arrogance or anger.

I sighed. “I’ll answer your question, if it will lead to you making sense.”

Again I heard his -- its -- booming laugh. “You show courage. Here is a hypothetical situation: A mage has you and your sibling trapped in separate cages, unable to communicate. The mage appears, and explains his sadistic game. There is a button in front of you, and another in front of your sibling. If you push your button, but your sibling does not, you shall die but your sibling walks free. If your sibling pushes the button and you do not, then they shall die but you shall walk free. If both of you push the button, you both die. If neither of you push your button, you both die.” He looked down at me, a calculating look on his dark face. “What do you do?” I didn’t have to think

“I’ll push my button.” I announced.. Gorion's teachings had instilled an odd sense of honour in me, but foremost even among that is that I simply wouldn't take the risk to Imoen, and I knew I could beat her if she got the same stupid idea I had. She was the more rough-and-tumble of the two of us, but I'd always been faster. And if I had to die to save her, I'd do it. It was simple, but it was also true. Well, as true as I wanted it to be. The thought flitted across my mind as I looked back at Imoen's drawn and pale face. I might not have saved her this time. I wish I knew what was going on!

“Indeed?” he asked. “No action can be made without consequences. Especially that which follows the noble path.” He raised his hands. “Deal with this, Noble One!”

He let his arms drop. A creature began to materialize before him, an eight-foot high, blue-skinned monstrosity with a great sword strapped to its back.

“Ogre!” Cried Imoen, jumping back, fumbling for an arrow. Jaheira came forward and hit the creature with a resounding smack across the knee. Then Minsc went charging into the fray, howling a Rahmani war cry. I grabbed my bow, nocked an arrow to the string.

Minsc and the ogre fought for a only moment, before a lucky arrow from Imoen went straight through its eye. The ogre crumpled, hit the floor, and vanished. I hadn't even gotten a shot off. The bowstring felt like it was impossible to pull.

“Nice shot, Immie,” I favoured her with a slight smile. I got a tentative one in return from under the grime, but for a moment, I could see my old friend.

The genie reappeared. “Well done, Noble one!” he crowed. “I offer you the answers you seek. Seek for the one called Reilev. He waits for one such as you.” With a flash, he vanished.

“Reilev . . .” I spoke the name aloud, wondering who, or what else we would run into in this place.

“An Elvan name,” Jaheira observed.

“Maybe,” I mumbled to myself, “but I don’t know that name.”

“Myself neither, child,” Jaheira said, absently running a hand through her hair, her braids were half-undone. “I doubt any of us have.”

“I have,” came a soft whisper from behind me. I turned to look at her. Her brown eyes seemed too big for her face, her cheeks were in shadow. “He -- he mentioned it, while -- while he -- “ she burst into tears. “Oh, Elshana,” she cried through her sobs, “he -- he --” I grabbed her, hugged her to me as we both collapsed to the cold stone floor.. Her tears wet the front of my tattered tunic, as I head her head to my shoulder and lay my bruised, swollen cheek atop her matted pink hair.

“Shh,” I whispered, working my pack loose with my free arm, and rummaging around in it one-handed. My fingers found the half-empty waterskin, and I handed it to her.

“Th- Thanks,” She stammered through her sobs, but she only took a sip. “Ellie,” she gasped, “I don’t know what he did to me.” The tears were still running down her face. She clapped both hands to her head, and began to sob again, shifting out of my grip. “My head . .” she gasped, “it feels like he’s placed a dagger in my head.” She sobbed again. “I don’t know what he did to me!”

“Shhh, Immie. It’s okay.” The words felt so useless, but she slumped back into my lap, sobbing, and I twined my fingers in her hair. “Shh,” I whispered again. I turned my attentions back inside myself, and found the energy that he had been unable to touch, though he had tried, my ‘Gift,’ a gift of my sire’s blood. It was the one part of my heritage that I had been able to truly tame, claim as my own, and use without feeling the brutal power of my sire. My hands glowed with a light that I could see through my half-closed eyes; Imoen stopped shaking.

“Better now?” I asked, feeling like I was about to crumple into a ball, It would be easy to simply stay put on the cold stone, it seemed, and the act of actually walking seemed like far away possibility. My abilities; minor healing, calming, and so forth, took a lot of my energy when I used them. I rarely did. But Immie needed me.

“I’m okay,” Imoen said in a small voice.

Jaheira came and stood behind us. “I do not wish to pressure you more, Imoen, but you must tell us what you know of this place, and how you know it.”

Imoen opened her eyes, unshed tears still shimmering. “He mentioned Rilev -- like a joke.” She pulled her hands off my shoulders, and climbed slowly to her feet. Her knees were shaking.

“Easy,” I said, but it was Minsc who helped me to my own shaking feet. I felt more tired then I had any right to be, more tired then even after taking on Sarevok. What was wrong with me?

But Imoen lapsed into silence, hung her head and looked at her own feet. Her hair spilled over her ears and into her face. She didn’t try to brush it back.

“C’mon,” I said softly, “we can save the questions for later.”

“Elshana,” came Jaheira’s warning voice, “if she knows anything about this place --”

I cut her off. “We’ll just have to do without, ‘till she’s willing to help us.” I didn’t add the rest of my thought: _if we push Immie any harder, she’ll snap. I won’t do that. He’s done enough to her._

The others fell back behind me, as we walked through a narrow corridor. Ahead of me, I heard the high-pitched voices of goblins raised in battle cries. _No. No more Goblins. No more._

But I'd forgotten how formidable an opponent Misc was, even if not armoured and armed to his usual standard. He made short work of them without really any help from the rest of us. And then he wiped his sword blade off on a rag taken from the goblins, a wide grin on his face.

“We finally got to apply the feared bootprint of evil!” he cried happily.

“Yeah,” I agreed slowly, “we did,” I paused again, and sighed. “But they were only goblins, Minsc.”

“Boo and Minsc do not care,” he declared. “A chance to drive our sword into the buttocks of evil!”

Then I shook my head. Minsc was a friend, of sorts, but he was still very odd.


	3. Chapter Three:

The Raven’s Tale: Chapter Three: 

We had passed through more bands of goblins. If not for Minsc and Jaheira, they probably would have slaughtered me where I stood. I was barely able to pull back the string on my bow – Imoen had always been a slightly better shot, much to my annoyance and her bragging; but now, it was like when I was learning from the Master of Arms back at Candlekeep. I was not exactly helpful, and I knew it.

The others knew it too. Minsc and Imoen took the lead; Imoen checking for traps while Minsc backed her up with his blade against anything nasty that might jump out. Jaheira trailed behind me, making sure I didn't stumble. _What has he done to me? I'm supposed to be keeping her safe, not the other way around!_

It took me a moment to realized we'd walked out of the narrow corridors into. . . into something else. “What is this place?” I mumbled aloud, staring at the motionless figures, bobbing in jars. Some were already dead, decomposing, others seemed to be alive, in a twisted sense. There were trickles of air bubbling through the fluid of some. I found myself staring at each face in turn, hoping, pleading, that it would not be a face I knew.

“I know this place . “ Imoen whispered, “I’ve been in here -- we both have.” She looked over her shoulder at me, and her eyes seemed black and empty. “There are things, in the jars.” Her voice made me shudder. “They used to be people.”

“It’s alright, Immie,” I found myself saying again. “He can’t touch you now.” I felt a snarl building inside me, as I vowed to keep that promise, whatever the cost.

“He can,” she whispered, her mouth barely moving. “I can still feel him.”

None of the creatures there seemed to be aware of our presence, though there were some who followed my movements with their eyes. Their eyes, haunted and tortured, mirrored Imoen’s in their bleakness.

Gratefully, there was little else there, and I was glad when we left that room behind. Wandering back through the slain goblins, I picked up a few coins, laughing at myself.

“What is funny, child?” Jaheira’s voice told me that she saw no humour in any of this situation.

I held up the handful of coins. “I actually caught myself thinking: what will I buy with these?” I laughed, a shaky laugh that had no true joy or happiness in it, just a sick sense of irony. “I actually thought I could get out of here!” I was laughing at my own hopefulness.

“Little Ellie can get out of any trap!” Minsc cried.

“Yeah,” I sighed, “but I haven’t found the way out of this one.” I turned away from Minsc to study a grimy patch on the wall, toying with the coin in my hand. _I will -not- be helpless. There's a way out of every maze, a solution to every puzzle. We just have to find and apply it._

I took a deep breath trying to steady both my hands and my thoughts. This wasn't a normal prison. The only guards we'd ever seen were the golems, unbribeable, but simplistic, only able to do what they were told If this is a prison, where’re the guards, patrols?” I voiced aloud the thoughts that were brewing in my mind. “If this were a normal prison, we'd have seen some sort of guard patrol by now. This seems more like a mad scientists' zoo, or experiment.” The coin didn't seem quite so trite as I played it back and forth across my fingers, under the grime was the flash of gold. “And even that would have, well, for lack of a better word, 'zookeepers,' something to keep the experiments in line. There doesn't seem to be that here.”

“Are you certain?” Jaheira asked.

“No,” I admitted, shaking my head, “but that’s what I’m going to operate on, until I know otherwise.” I passed by Jaheira and headed back through the slain goblins to another side door.

The room was empty, save for one long table, a number of old barrels, and one of those horrible glass tanks, up against the far wall. I heard Imoen’s intake of breath, and Jaheira’s mumbled curse. Walking up to it, I pressed my face to the wonderfully cool glass, somehow knowing there was a figure within.

“Ellie . . .” Imoen moaned.

“ _Who are you? Servants of the master?”_

“What--!” I jerked back, looking for whomever had spoken. “Who--?”

“ _I was Reilev, I think . . . Dead or dying, I do not remember.”_

This was getting decidedly odd. Normally I could place a voice’s location relative to me quite quickly, yet his voice seemed to resound in my head. I leaned closer in, looking into the tank, and was rewarded with the sight of one bright green eye, staring at me, blinking slowly. In that slow gaze I saw all the horrors that my captor had heaped upon me.

“This is how you talk?” I blurted out.

“ _Yes.”_

I stared more intently at the creature in the tank. The green eye and one pointed ear were all that was left of his face, the rest had slowly dissolved, there was simply nothing there. His body was in a similar state.

“ _You are prisoners of the master?”_ I heard his voice question within my head, and I nodded. _“Some things never change.”_

“Can you tell me how to leave this place?”

“ _No, but others may. My tank is powered by crystals. There are others like me, but of more recent experiments. They may know. You can use the crystals to revive them, and I can sleep at last.”_

I looked to the side of his tank. Two crystals, looking like diamonds glowing with blue-white energy, were nestled into a nest of wires. I pulled them free, and his tank stopped bubbling.

“ _I thank thee . . . and go to sweet oblivion at last. Farewell.”_ His last mental voice was little more then a whisper, and his eye closed. I touched my hand to the glass in a quick farewell, then turned to see Imoen staring hypnotically at the tank. “What is it?” I asked.

“I can’t look away,” she whispered, “I’ve seen death before, in our struggles, Ellie . . . but I can’t look away.” I couldn't either.

“Death is not always to be feared.” I found my voice. “I would not want to live like that.”

Imoen stared up at me through a veil of pink hair. “Death is pretty?” she gasped, “Don’t say that!” she howled, stepping back in horror, and running further down the corridor.

“Immie!” I called, reaching out to grab her, but she had sped ahead. I stumbled after her. “Immie, wait!” She paused mid-step. Part of me wanted to slap her, but I held back. She didn’t deserve that. I placed both hands on her shoulders. “Immie, listen. There are some times where death is the only release. He’d been kept like that for so long, that the peace of death was his only respite.” I paused, frowning, wondering how to explain to her. “I wouldn’t want to live as he did, with no contact with anyone, and no real body; it would be --” I broke off for a moment. “It would be torture,” I finished coldly. Straightening up, I continued. “To simply exist, yet be nothing? Immie, no one should have to live that way, and few people would want to.” The blank look on her face showed that my message was not being received. She pulled free of my grasp, running out of the room.

I’d had enough. I wasn't tired any more, I was angry. Angry, furious, afraid, exhausted,, all of it. But above all, I was furious.

If I'd had my spells memorized, I probably would have put the entire place up in flames. But the memorized incantations for fire didn't come. They couldn't. There was nothing there. But I didn't care. One form of destruction was just as valuable as another.

I whirled around and slammed my hand into the long table against the wall, screaming. The table splintered under my strike, but the crack of wood did nothing to blunt my feelings. This was too much. I whirled, striking the wall with a closed fist. The wall cracked as I struck it, but I wanted something more satisfying. I wanted to find my captor, and beat his face in. Then I would resurrect him and do it again. I bent down, grabbed one of the table legs, and pulled. The wood gave way, and the table fell. I got an odd sense of satisfaction; but it wasn’t as good as having my captor there. I took the table leg and swung it at Rilev's tube, sending shatttered glass and fluid over the floor, over me. I struck again, the shattering glass giving me an odd sense of relief. Was the liquid on my face my own tears? What that blood, or fluid from the tank? I didn't care. The glass shattered as easily as imagined our dear captors mask shattering. I struck again, my makeshift club splintering against the metal base of the tank, breaking -his- mask, shuttering those cold blue eyes. . . .

Rielev was definitely dead.

Then I retched. The fluid was a mix of embalming fluids and far, far worse. There were a pair of hands on my shoulder, they weren't Immie's, they weren't Gorion's, no, they were Jaheira's.” She took the splintered makeshift club from my hands and half carried me to a corner of the room.

“What are you doing, child?” Jaheira asked. She used the edge of a sleeve to wipe the liquid from my face.

“I’m not sure,” I said shakily. The rage was subsiding, but I still felt like a hunted rabbit. Or a mouse pinned by a cat. My control was breaking even further, and I looked down at my own grimy hands. I didn't want to meet Jaheira's eyes.

“You --” Jaheira began, but Minsc cut her off. “Look at the pretty stone!” He bent down and held up a small grey stone, covered with runes. I held out my hand, and he dropped the stone into my grip. “It looks somewhat like a wardstone,” I said, feeling an echo of magic on it, “but I don’t know exactly what it does.” I dropped it into my pack.

“Now help me up, please?” I asked to Jaheira. “We need to find Imoen.” Jaheira helped me to my feet without a word.

It didn’t take long to find her. She was sitting just outside the door, and I could tell she had been crying. Her quick glance upwards betrayed our approach.

“Did you finish ripping the room apart?” She asked, a strange note of desperation in her voice.

“Nah, I just killed the table,” I retorted, trying to draw even a trace of a real smile. It was a lie, it rang hollow, but it was all I could manage to say.

“Oh.” She stood silently, her head hung for a moment, then spoke again. “There’s another golem in there.” She nodded towards an open room. “I saw it go by.”

I beckoned to the others, a come-here motion of my hand. “Immie says there’s another golem in there. I’m going to check it out.” I rounded the door and, yep, another golem. _Is there anything truly alive in this place?_

This one was composed of what looked like (and smelled like) decomposing matter of various organic sources. In non-acadmemic speech, it smelled like a midden. I concentrated for a moment, trying not to gag, or retch again. _Vomiting on an empty stomach is -not- something I recommend._

“Master?” It had a voice like speaking through a long, deep pipe, and 'face', if that could be the word, only loosely formed to a normal humanoid head. “Is that you?”

“Uh . .” I began. _Why not try?_ “Yes, my servant, it is I. What have you been doing?”

“I have been cleaning the pit and feeding the guardian, Master.”

‘ _The Pit?’ I don’t like the way that sounds. And who or what is ‘the Guardian’?_ “Yes . . .” I said, slowly, unsure of what to say or ask next.

“Do you wish me to open the pit and feed the guardian?”

I took a deep breath, and regretted it as I gagged. “Yes,” I finally managed to breathe. The golem did not move. After a moment, it spoke again. _Uh oh. I’ve been had._

“You have not activated my movement functions, master,” it informed me. Good. I hadn’t been found out, but . . . I puzzled. How was I to -- then I realized what that stone must do. We had found it literally ‘next door.’ It was worth a try. I pulled out the stone and, trying not to retch, placed it in what passed for the golem’s hand. Immediately, it started to run.

“Follow it!” I yelled, sprinting to try and keep up with the construct, and failing; but the noise it made was hard to ignore, and easy to follow. None of us were up for keeping up with the construct. It didn't tire, didn't need to eat; and wasn't bone-weary and worse.

It lead us back into the room where the genie had appeared, and down a narrow corridor that we had not explored. It pulled open a door, and an even worse stench came down the corridor. The meaning of ‘the pit’ had just become very clear.

“Ewww.” Imoen stood beside me on the edge of the door. We could see a door opposite us, but we had to cross the room full of decaying organic matter. I turned to her and raised an eyebrow. “There’s nothing for it, Immie.” I took one step in, fearing the depth of the detritus might be enough to bury me, and was grateful when I encountered a solid surface at about ankle-height. “It’s not deep.” The face she made was her only reply.

Jaheira stared at me. I looked back. “It’s all part of the natural cycle,” I told her calmly, feeling the corners of my mouth quirk upwards.

“Natural cycle. . . .” she echoed, one hand holding her nose. Still, she too stepped off the doorframe and followed me.

It was as bad as I had feared, and worse. Something was actually living down here. It looked at first like a rotting sphere of organic sludge, it was only when it moved that I realized how bad this was going to be. A tentacle slapped me across the shoulder, knocking me into the sludge. Then there was a mouth -- _no fair, it has teeth!_ , was all I had time to think before I was bitten. I don’t know if I cried out, but I do remember beating at the mouth with my free hand. “Let go!” I screamed, scrabbling about in the muck for my sword, my right arm pinned and numb. Minsc came charging in, knocking the mouth from its grip on my shoulder. I grabbed my sword with my left hand, thankful that I’d learned to fight with either hand. It had won me a few bets at the various taverns.

Between Jaheira, Minsc and myself pounding on it with swords and staff, and Imoen’s arrows, the thing finally died.

I pulled myself up over the edge of the other doorframe, into what looked like a bedroom, my shoulder still throbbing. Jaheira came to me. “I have no more healing spells, child. Can --?”

A wave of my good hand silenced her. “There’s no place safe to rest here,” I said. The rush of battle had banished my exhaustion, though Oghma knew that wouldn't last. I was already tearing a stained strip of cloth from the remnants of my tunic, and binding my wound. “I already used my ‘gift.’” I added. As I tied off the makeshift bandage, I sighed. “It’s not bad, anyway.”

“At the first safe place, Elshana, I would say that we should rest. You have no memorized spells yourself.”

I stared at her for a moment. I preferred physical combat over my magical abilities, but I had no qualms about using both. No one had said anything, and I was hoping that element might go unquestioned. “I didn’t see my spellbook until earler. I admitted. “Whatever he did caused me to forget all my spells.” I stared at the short sword in my left hand. “I wasn’t going to make you all stop for me to memorize. I can do just fine without.”

“Nonsense.” Jaheira said, shaking her head. “I understand your desire not to be a burden,, but right now, you are not fighting with all your skills, and such a situation is not desirable.” She turned to stare at me, her height overshadowing my own, even seated just inside the doorframe as we both were. “Elshana, I know this is not ideal circumstances, but I would ask that you try and control yourself as best you can. You needn't be so,” she paused. It was rare that I saw Jaheira actually fumble for words. “stubborn.” A faint smile quirked at her lips.

*She is right, mistress.*

I frowned, looking around. A black shape descended from one of the pipes crossing the ceiling, and landed beside us on the doorframe.. *I am sorry, mistress, I would have interfered earlier, but I did not wish to distract you.* The raven looked up at me.

“Numel!” I cried aloud, recognizing my familiar, and scooping him into my arms. “Where were you?” I asked. *Did he find you, too?*

*No. I hid here since the Nasty One so rarely comes here. I . . .* there was an element of regret in my familiar’s link. *I couldn’t touch you properly; you were in great pain. I was exhausted, and fell into slumber. I only awoke when I heard the sounds of your battle, below me.* Numel stared at me. *Jaheira is right, mistress. You must find your control, the centre of yourself that holds your Father's anger in check.*

“I’m not out of control,” I said defiantly to both Jaheira and Numel.

*No, you are not out of control, but your control has been weakened by the Nasty One. I can feel it.*

Jaheira, obviously realizing that my familiar was giving the same lecture she would, stayed silent. I nodded at her.

*You are angry, mistress. I am angry also. You wish nothing more then to rip out his eyes with your talons and sink your beak into his throat.*

*I wasn’t thinking with quite that imagery, but, yeah, that’s about right.*

*And I shall help.* Numel informed me. *But you cannot simply storm in, destroying all that is in sight.* There was the mental equivalent of a sigh. *You have strength, agility. But if you simply act without control, you are no better then a beast. And a beast will fall to the hunter’s snare. You must use your scholar’s mind, for that is your most powerful weapon against this foe.* Numel flew up and landed on my good shoulder. *He did not destroy your control, or you would be insane. He merely cracked it, and a crack can be repaired.*

“I suppose I haven’t been acting like myself lately,” I admitted, sofyly, remembering my anger at Imoen, my foolish attack on the table, my strange reaction to my own hope.

Jaheira came up beside me. “Such is utterly understandable.” Her hand was warm on my shoulder, and she brushed a strand of mud-clumped hair away from my cheek. “But, Imoen is drawing on your control as well,” she said. “For her sake, you should try.”

“Put on a brave face for my younger sister, huh?”

“Yes”

*Exactly.*

I sighed. “I’ll try.”

“Good, child.”

I stood as Imoen and Minsc came out of the Pit, Imoen making the same retching sounds I'd wanted to make.

*Now that you have decided to use your intellect again,* Numel thought, *look around, observe, and tell me what is so illogical about this room.*


	4. Chapter Four:

The Raven's Tale: Chapter Four:

I stared around the room. This was a bedroom, outfitted like the bedroom of a noble. I stared at the pictures on the wall, the fine wooden chest that stood beside the bed. There were two hallways leading out, and from one I heard the shrill cries of goblins. I pulled my bow, shooting down two of the little creatures before they got to me, ignoring the pain in my shoulder. Another Gift? Or just the rush of battle? I wasn't sure. Numel flew into the eyes of a fourth, and arrows from Imoen and Minsc took the other goblins down too. I scanned the room carefully, trembling, looking for the answer to Numel’s question. Then I realized.

“Why’d your bedroom be right next to a sewage pit?” I asked aloud, getting nothing but questioning glances in return.

*You spotted it, mistress. The Nasty One almost never comes here.* Numel was satisfied. I stared at the room a while longer. Something wasn’t right with this place, I knew, and I was hesitant to step into that room. Finally, I took a single step. Then I saw the traps. Two pressure plates, set into the floor. Fumbling in my pack, I pulled out my tools. I was glad I had found these tucked into the bottom of the backpack. When I got proper clothing again, I would keep them up my sleeve, like I normally did. A few moments of work, and the two traps were disabled. Once again, I was grateful for the fact that I’d trained with both hands. I slung my pack back over my left shoulder, my right shoulder still stung too much. 

“All clear,” I called, “though don’t try and open that chest yet.” As the rest of the party came through the doorway, I headed over to the chest beside the bed. From a distance, I could see that it was locked, closer, I could see that it too was trapped. 

“Ellie?” Imoen called, “There’s a compartment behind this picture. I think I can open it.”

“Wait!” I cried. Imoen normally had a good eye for traps, but when we were all bone-tired, I wanted to check for myself.

“Why -- oh. It’s trapped.” She fidgeted for a moment, and by the time I got over there, she was just pulling out a small sliver pendant, a metal helmet and a strange figurine.

The figurine was shaped like a lumpy man, a mass of swirls and shifting patterns. The pendant was a simple circular pendant on a silver wire, but simply holding it made my hands tingle. “It’s magical,” I said, “but I’m not sure what it does. I don’t have any Identify spells memorized, so it’ll have to wait.” I shoved the figurine and the pendant inside my pack. “This is the Helm of Balduran,” I said, studying the green feather at the top. “Jaheira,” I tossed the helm one-handed at her. Minsc had found a helmet already, but Jaheira had yet to.. I turned to go back to the chest. Before I did, I spoke to Imoen.

“Good job on that trap, Immie.” I said, hoping that a simple complement would help in some fashion. I only got a shaky nod in return. That was better then her tears. Jaheira had been right. If I controlled myself, Immie would be a little better.

I turned my attention back to the chest. The lock was simple, but there was a slit just below it. It only took a few minutes to jam the slit with a sliver of metal. Once the lock opened up, I pulled back the lid of the chest. There was a grinding noise, and the metal piece shifted, but I grabbed the coins and the strange key, and slammed the lid back down.

I headed towards where the goblins had come from and looked around. The bodies lay before a great shimmering portal. I stared at it uneasily. This could be our way out; or it could be a trap; or it could lead us deeper into this maze. “The tiger or the lady?” I mused aloud.

“What?” Jaheria asked, coming up behind me.

“What do tigers and ladies have to do with big shiny portals?” Asked Minsc.

Strangely enough, it was Imoen that explained. “It’s a story about a brave warrior who is standing before two doors.” Even her voice seemed more controlled. Reilev had unsettled all of us, but maybe she was coming back to herself. “Behind one door is a man-eating tiger, who will kill the warrior, behind the other is the lady of his dreams.”

*I know that story.* Numel said, annoyed.

“Why would the tiger want to eat the brave warrior?” Asked Minsc. “The warrior and the tiger should rescue the pretty lady, like true heroes of goodness.”

“It isn’t that simple, Minsc.” I replied.

“Which does he chose?” Jaheira asked, curious. I would have thought she would have known that story too.

I smiled. “He doesn’t. The story ends there. You make the choice.”

“The hero will open both doors, and make friends with the scary tiger. Then the hero will rescue the pretty lady!” Minsc cried.

“Gorion told us that tale,” Imoen said softly. “I never really liked it, but I remembered it.”

“It drove me nuts too. I always wanted to know how it ended. Only later did I realize that was the point. The power of choice.” I stared at the portal. “But it doesn’t matter anyway.” Reaching out to touch the portal, I encountered a solid surface, rather then seeing, as I expected, my hand vanishing into the mists of the portal.. “It’s not active.” There was a small slot, set in the metal frame of the portal. The key I had found earlier didn’t fit.

*Mistress?*

*Yeah?*

*If nothing can come through the portal, then you essentially have a locked door at your back, correct?*

*Yeah, why?*

*This might be a good place to rest, recover your strength.*

I thought about that for a moment. *Not bad, Numel.* I got an annoyed glare. Then he flew off my shoulder. *I shall return, mistress.*

*Where are you going?* I got no answer.

“Alright.” I said, ignoring my familiar‘s behavior for the moment, “This might be a good spot to rest.” I turned to Jaheira. “Do you think we need watchers?”

“Perhaps, child. But no one should watch alone.”

“Yeah, that sounds right.” Especially Immie, I thought.

*Mistress, please come.*

*What is it?*

*Just come. You may bring the others, if you wish. There is no threat.*

I rolled my eyes. “C’mon, Numel says there’s something up ahead we should see.” I said, then headed towards my familiar, Jaheira beside me.

I found my way to where my familiar sat in the branches of an oak tree. *Trees?*

*Trees, mistress. A form of plant that has woody bark, grows many leaves, produces some form of fruit or seeds for procreation --* Numel’s voice had taken on the tones of a lecturing teacher, and he was definitely grinning.

*Okay, okay.* “But what are trees doing down here?” I voiced the last part of the question aloud.

“There is a whole ecology down here,” Jaheira said. “Our captor does not seem one to honour nature, so why --?”

“Help us!”

“Protect us!”

“Please, help us!”

The voices sounded almost in unison. I stared at the figures that emerged from this underground forest. They looked like human women, but they were taller, and stunningly beautiful. They were dryads. Now I understood what had caught Numel's attention.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“We are his servants.” One of the dryads said, stopping just before me.

Another dryad sobbed. “His concubines.”

“Please, can you help us?” The first speaker cried.

“Child, if we can help them, we should. They will perish if left down here.” Jaheira said, her voice soft but hard.

I couldn’t bear to see others captive in this place. “I’ll try.” I said with a shake of my head. “How?”

“He has our acorns. We cannot leave. If you could bring our acorns to our Queen, in the Windspear Hills, our trees could be replanted.”

“We would be freed!”

All right, I thought, this wasn’t that bad. “Where are your acorns?” I asked.

“We don’t know.”

That was bad. “Oh. Do you know where I might find them?”

“Irenicus might have left them with Illych.”

“Or they might me in the Mistress’ room.”

“Irenicus . . . “Jaheira said slowly. “We finally have a name for our captor.”

I recognized the elvan name. “It means,” I frowned, thinking back to the language lessons Gorion had taught me so long ago. “Shattered One.” I shuddered. It was a fitting name.

“Yes, he is shattered. He hoped that we -- we would restore him.” The dryad was crying again. I reached up and tentatively brushed the tears from her cheek with my left hand.

“I will help you, if I can.”

“Thank you, young one.” She touched her cheek where I had brushed it. Then they turned away, the conversation over.

*Mistress?*

*Now what?*

*There is fruit here. Perhaps the dryads will allow us to eat some of it. Most of the supplies from your pack are gone, correct?*

I paused. That was a good point. At the first mention of fruit, my gaze glanced around, and I realized how hungry I was. I took a few steps after the dryads.

“Please . . .” I trailed off, unsure of how to continue. I felt like a beggar, and I didn’t like the feeling.

The lead dryad turned back and smiled at me. “You make take some of the fruits, if you wish.”

I grabbed a handful of apples from the bough of a nearby tree, tossing them in my pack. Jaheira found dandelions growing in abundance, though how anything actually grew down here stumped both of us. Another piece of illogic, one I was quite willing to ignore.

“Look, Immie!” I cried, grinning, tossing her an apple.

She stared at me blankly for a moment, then asked, softly, “You found the dryads?”

I dropped the apple in my hand, and it rolled away down the hall. “What!” I cried, “How did you know about --” They had claimed to be Irenicus’ concubines. Had he dared to touch Imoen that way? The mere thought was enough incentive to find and slowly throttle our captor, bare handed, magic be dammed.

“He told me.” Her voice was distant again, her eyes seeing something we could not. “They are beautiful, aren't they?”

“Yeah, they are, Immie.” I answered slowly.

“Imoen,” Jaheira began, repeating the same plea from before, her voice soft and earnest, “if you know something of this place, please, tell us.” But Imoen gave Jaheira a look that made me shiver, and turned away, staring down into her lap.

“You don’t want to hear.” She said softly, but so forcefully that I knew further questions would do no good. “Please, leave me alone, Jaheira.” She was crying. There had been far too many tears shed here. I sat down beside her.

“Eat your apple, Immie,” I said, wondering what Imoen had seen that had tormented her so. It had something to do with Jaheira, I could tell. But I also knew there was little-to-no chance of getting it out of her. Not here, and not now.

So, it was in the strange small patch of green that we settled for a very much needed rest. Imoen leaned against my good shoulder, as I chewed on a dandelion stem. Minsc was feeding pieces of apple to Boo, and Jaheira was simply sitting cross-legged, her eyes closed, in meditation.

I looked down at Imoen, who had pillowed her head on my shoulder. Her eyes were closed, and her dirt-smeared face was peaceful for the first time since I’d seen her in the dungeon. There was still hope for her. I hooked one ankle around the straps of my pack, and pulled it towards me until I could get out my spellbook without shifting too much. As I changed position, Immie murmured something, but then settled back against my shoulder. Flipping the pages of my spellbook, I smiled. I wouldn’t be able to memorize until after I had slept, but since I hadn’t even had a chance to look at my spellbook since my capture . . . it was something to keep my mind busy, to keep the memories at bay. And this way, I would be able to bring that bastard down with fire the next time we crossed paths.


	5. Chapter Five:

The Raven’s Tale: Chapter Five:

At a touch on my shoulder, I woke up. For one brief moment, I curled up, awaiting the next blow, the next ‘experiment.’ Then I remembered.

“No, Boo, little Ellie is just confused.” I blinked and sat up, remembering falling asleep when Jaheira had taken my watch. “Minsc is sorry to frighten little Ellie, but it is time to go.” I smiled at him, and gave Boo a quick pat. As I stood up, stretching, Minsc gave me a wide smile. “Minsc knows what it is like to be confused. But Minsc has Ellie, and Ellie has Minsc, and together we shall chop the evil nasty wizard into hamster-sized chunks!”

“Right.” I agreed with the sentiment, if not the image. I wanted something more painful. Brushing my hair out of my eyes, I looked around, and saw that I was the last one up. “You could’ve woken me earlier,” I said, stretching, then I grinned. There was no trace of the pain in my shoulder. Jaheira must have healed me. I smiled at her, held her gaze for a moment. “Thank you,” I added.

“You are quite welcome, child. As for waking you -- nonsense.” Jaheira said. “You needed your rest more then we did. Now, see to your spells, and we shall be off.”

“Give me a minute, first?” I headed over to where Imoen was sitting, her head bowed. “You okay?”

I got a glimmer of a real smile as she raised her head. “You were really brave to sleep in this place.” She gave a slight laugh, and I was heartened; she seemed a little more at peace with herself. “I would’ve run away screaming six times over if you weren’t here.”

“We were bone-tired,” I said, “We needed to rest. It wasn’t safe, but we got lucky.”

“I suppose we did, at that.” She replied, the smile fading. “Some were luckier then others.”

“Well,” I said carefully, not quite sure what she was referring to, “that’s the other side of ‘life isn’t always fair.’ Sometimes, we can be quite lucky.” I wouldn’t count myself lucky, exactly, but I was alive, and somewhat whole; things could have been far worse.

“Forget it, Ellie.” Imoen said sharply. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She stood up, stalking out into the bedroom. “Just -- just pick your spells.”

I’d obviously misread something in that conversation. There wasn’t much to do about it now, though. I leaned against the wall, and began to read.

A downside to being a wizard is the time it takes to memorize your spells. Non-casters sometimes seemed to assume that we carried an infinite amount of fireballs and magic missiles around inside our heads. It would be nice, but it was untrue. One thing that was often overlooked was that it could take a powerful wizard over an hour to memorize all his or her spells. Most of the time, though, you retained uncast spells, so not everything had to be redone. Something had completely wiped my memory, though, so it took longer then usual for me to finish, and Imoen was already pacing the walls.

“Are you done yet?” It was a question I would have expected from Imoen, but the tone was not the teasing I remembered. Her voice held a tremble.

I looked up at her over the edge of the book. “Almost. The more you pester me, the longer this takes. You keep breaking my concentration.” It was my traditional reply, when she would try and coax me from my studies to play some practical joke. She would then wait for me to finish before pulling her prank, all the while making noises about how boring I was.

“I just want to get out of here, Ellie.” Her voice was growing more frantic. I finally shut the book. I wouldn’t be able to do any more now, with my worries about Imoen coming back to mind.

“Okay, fine.” I tried to keep my annoyance out of my tone, and only partially succeeded. It wasn’t really Imoen’s fault, but I hated to be disturbed when I was reading anything. But either she didn’t care or didn’t notice, and I wasn’t sure which. I shook my head. This wasn’t getting any of us closer to escaping.

It was in one of our later explorations that we found the dryad’s acorns. A group of Duergar had set up a small forge, and they had attacked us on sight. I charged in with my short sword, Jaheira and Minsc right behind me. It was a short fight, but I ended up nursing minor frostbite from an enemy mage. Examination showed the leader had a small pouch of acorns -- as well a suit of magical chain that was perfect for Minsc.

“Well,” I said, holding up the pouch in triumph, “that’s one down.”

“We can set the tree-women free?” Minsc asked. I had told them about the dryads.

“If we get to these Windspear Hills,” I said slowly, “then yeah, we could.” I still had my doubts about getting out of this dungeon-maze, but I refused to speak of those. Besides, after a rest and food, our prospects did look quite a bit better. I turned back down a side corridor, and motioned everyone to stop. We’d found a use for the strange statue. It fit into a recess in the floor, and a wooden door, so well disguised that even with my elven senses, I had not seen it, opened towards us with a blast of wind that ruffled hair and clothing. Imoen took a step backwards, her eyes wide with fear. Numel latched onto the strap of my pack.

“C’mon, Immie,” I said. It would do no good staring at the doorway, we could either ignore it or go through it, and I disliked the idea of leaving an open doorway at my back. I stepped closer to the open doorway, only to stop dead, causing Imoen to bump me from behind. There was nothing. No darkened room lay behind the door, as I’d first thought, only a shimmering black expanse from which a strong wind came, blowing my ragged hair back from my face. It frightened me, but I wasn’t leaving it as an unknown. If I did, my imagination could conjure up many horrors, and I would rather know the truth. Besides, our way out could be through that portal.

“C’mon!” I yelled, motioning the others to go through. Imoen paused on the threshold, frozen. “I’m right here!” I cried over the wind. I grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. She turned to glance at me, and nodded. We both ran through the portal.

*Mistress!* Numel cried, panicked. At least we landed on a solid surface. We were on a wooden bridge, but I couldn’t see anything above us, no supports or bracing. In fact, there was nothing above us but space, as far as I could see. I leaned over the side of the bridge to try and spot the supports -- and promptly was assailed with a wave of nausea. I normally have a pretty good head for heights, but when I looked down and saw nothing underneath us, with no ground as far as could be seen, it was enough to throw my senses. I staggered back to the centre of the bridge and sat down, my head resting between my knees. “Don’t look over the sides,” I managed to get out in a strangled voice, trying not to retch. Despite knowing the bridge must have been held up by magic, I still half-expected the bridge to fall beneath our feet, sending us all plummeting for eternity.

*You will not fall, mistress.* Numel’s mental voice still held a trace of his own immediate fright. *Though going through an unknown magical portal was very reckless, mistress. You could have been sent to an inhospitable plane, or perhaps even been stranded somewhere with no way to return.*

*The portal’s right there, Numel.* I responded, nodding towards where the portal could be seen, like a thin curtain of black fabric shot through with metal thread.

*I am only saying that there was an element of risk --*

*There’s risk in everything, Numel. We’re not going to get out of here by avoiding risk.* I slowly stood up, carefully keeping my eyes locked forward. *Besides, had I not investigated, I would’ve begun to worry. I don’t like unknowns.*

*Very well.* The tone made it quite clear that Numel did not agree. Jaheira came and took my arm, helping to support me, for my knees still trembled.

“You will be fine, child. Just allow yourself a moment to recover.” After finding that my legs could now support me, I straightened up, and nodded my thanks to Jaheira. “It is nothing to be ashamed of; many people experience such sensations when looking down from heights.”

“Boo is afraid of being so high too, little Ellie.” Minsc added. “He says it is making him sick to his little hamster tummy.”

“Can we leave now Ellie?” Imoen pleaded. “I mean, you’ve been in here -- seen what’s here -- can we please go?”

“Hey,” I said with a smile, “I just want to see what around here. You can wait on the other side of the portal for us, if you want,“ I said kindly. I would have preferred to have her with me, but not if she was frightened so badly. I hoped she wouldn’t take it as a slight on her courage. “And Minsc --” I turned to him. “Would you stay with her?” I didn’t want to leave her alone.

“Boo says he would rather stay with Imoen then go walking on high narrow bridges. So Minsc will stay.”

“I -- I didn’t mean --” She began.

“No, it’s alright,” I tried to explain. “I just want to know what’s here. I don’t like leaving an unknown at my back. Besides, I’m going to explore everywhere I can, because there’s got to be a way out somewhere, and that way out could be across those bridges.” I grabbed her into a hug. “I’m frightened too, but I’ll manage. I’ve got to see what’s down here. I won’t be long, okay?”

“Okay.” She echoed. As she went back into the portal again with Minsc, I watched until they faded from sight.

“Elshana, are you sure that was wise, sending her back with Minsc?” Jaheira had to raise her voice to be heard over the gusts of wind.

I sighed. “She couldn’t stay here. Minsc adores her, he won’t let anything happen to her.”

“What if something were to happen to us?” Jaheira asked pointedly.

I looked back at the portal. “Then she can find her own way out, and I will haunt and torture that wizard until he dies.” I said coldly. My reply unsettled her, but together, we turned into the wind, and headed across the bridge.

There were mephits everywhere, it seemed, including a large number that I managed to catch with a fireball before they closed with us. We found a few magical scrolls within the structure of what looked like a giant fan, but we also found something far more interesting. Beyond where many of the mephits had congregated, there was a small raised pedestal with a cushion, and atop that sat a small ceramic jar. As soon as I touched it, mist began to pour from it, coalescing into the form of another genie.

“I am bound. What do -- who are you? Ah, I see . . . the Master is gone and you've managed to get yourselves in trouble.” His voice was deep, and almost singsong in it's taunt. 

“Who’re you that you've been bound in this flask?” I asked, ignoring his taunting and trying to be polite. I had no wish to fight a genie, especially when we only had half the party.

“Enslaved would be a more accurate word,” he said with a sigh, shoulders slumping. “I was captured in my home, on this Plane of Air, by a wizard. He bound me to this flask that I might guard his things -- and something of yours.”

“Plane of Air!” I cried out, surprised. I had studied all the various elemental planes, but to find myself among them . . . Numel’s warnings echoed in my mind. 

*Oh, so you were actually listening?* The snarky response was clear.

“You have something that belongs to me, then?” I asked, ignoring Numel and trying to keep my astonishment in check. I wondered what item he had. Though we had found some of our old gear with the golem, other of our items were still missing. I still missed the mage robe that I had bought from Thalantyr. 

“I do. A thing of power that still carries a hint of your essence. There is something odd about the signature that you leave on this item.” He stared at me for a moment, then chuckled to himself. “No matter.” I waited for a moment.

“Can you give it to me?” I asked impatiently, wondering why he had spoken of the mysterious item if he wasn’t going to give it to me. And what signature could I have left on anything I had wielded, even with my heritage? The only thing I could think of was the sword with which I had defeated Sarevok, but that rested at my waist, something for which I was grateful. It was one of the few things that apparently had been kept by our captor.

“If I had the power to give you your weapon, I would, but the force that binds me is strong. As long as I am trapped within this flask, I am within the mage's power.”

Right. That fit with what I knew about genies. They were bound within a flask by powerful magics, forced to serve a single master.

“If you secure the means of my release, I will give you your weapon.”

A weapon? I frowned. I had both my old bow, and my short sword. I wasn’t missing a weapon, and neither were any of the others, directly, though we hadn't found Imoen's armour yet. Still . . . “That sounds like a fair trade. How do I do that?”

“This flask that I am bound in is a creation of magic. It is unbreakable as long as it remains apart from its twin, the real flask. You must find the original and bring it back to me. Once it is within my grasp, I can break the enchantment and I will be freed.”

 _Great, more hunting for random objects_. “Where can I find this flask?”

“I cannot pinpoint its location from another Plane. You shall have to search for it. He will keep the flask close to himself, for he would not risk it falling into other hands. Perhaps he keeps it in his chambers, or with his dryad concubines.”

In other words, I would have to have another talk with the dryads. I let out a sigh. “I will try.”

“Return to me when you have found it, and we shall exchange my freedom for your weapon.”

“Very well,” I said. Then I turned and began heading back towards the portal. There it was; mention of a weapon again. What weapon could it be that I had handled?

“Jaheira,” I said on impulse, not turning to face her, but instead keeping my eyes locked straight ahead to avoid the nausea. “You’ve got your weaponry, right?”

“Yes child.” Anticipating my next question, she continued, “And so do Minsc and Imoen, I believe. Imoen is missing her armour, but that is all.” She made no mention of Khalid’s sword and axes, still stashed away in her pack, and I didn’t bother to ask the question. We had seen no sign of him, and it must have been tormenting her. I wouldn’t add to that reminder of his absence.

“So what weapon is this?” I asked thinking aloud. “Is this a trick of some kind?” But there was going to be only one way to find out what the truth was. I would have to find this second flask.


	6. Chapter Six

The Raven’s Tale: Chapter Six

Once I had reunited with Imoen and Minsc outside the portal, I related the story of the genie. 

“So we are going to get the genie out too?” Asked Minsc.

“If we can find this flask,” I replied. I hated all this errand work, but creating friendships with the inhabitants of this dungeon would help our quest towards freedom; perhaps one of them knew something that would help us escape. “He said it might be in Irenicus’ chambers, or with the dryads.”

“I don’t think it’s in his room, Ellie.” Imoen said with a frown. “We searched there pretty thoroughly.”

“That’s what I thought too. I’m going to go have another talk with those dryads. Even if they don’t have it, they may know where it is.”

“What does he have of yours?” Imoen asked, “I mean, you’ve got all your stuff, right?”

“No,” I replied, “but I can’t think of anything that would have my ‘signature,‘ as he puts it.” I said, still puzzling over it myself. 

We trekked back to the dryad’s room, and I saw Imoen’s face light up with a true smile, a look of wonderment, when she saw the dryads. Again, for a moment, I saw my old friend and foster-sister. 

“They’re so beautiful,” she breathed, “just like I imagined.”

“You are welcome among us, girl. Youthful exuberance is music that we have not heard in such a long time.” The dryad said with that same sad smile. 

“I used to dream... but he doesn't. Your charms don't work on him anymore, do they?” She was whispering now, and I didn’t understand what she meant about their charms, though I could see the tears running down her cheeks. 

“How do you know of this? He has touched you as we, hasn't he? Irenicus searches for something he cannot find, and he looks within those that have no more idea than he.” I snarled aloud. To think that he had dared to touch Imoen, defile her -- the idea angered me so much that I could barely think straight. My hand tensed on the hilt of my sword. 

“Irenicus . . . “ Imoen began, her voice trailing off as she clutched at her head. 

“A name that is synonymous with death and ugliness,” began the dryad, but Imoen cut her off. 

“No,” she gasped, now in obvious pain. “Death sounds different. He showed me. . .” I reached out and grabbed her, held her close. Why Imoen? I was the Bhaalspawn, I was the one he had obviously wanted, so why had she been treated seemingly worse then me? I wrapped both arms around her, supporting her as best I could as she sobbed, unsure of anything to say, save to be her support. She trembled against me, but eventually steadied herself. “Thanks,” she managed shakily, untangling herself from my arms. “I’m okay now. Really.” Though she was no longer crying, I felt she was far from okay.

“Hey,” I said, trying to crack a smile, “I’ll always be a shoulder to cry on.” I got the desired smile, and I gave one back. 

“Live as you can where you must, young woman. You will not survive if you give in. We have learned this.” The lead dryad gave that sad smile again, and all of them began to drift back into the trees. 

“I have learned,” Imoen began softly, “something different. You‘re so beautiful, I almost can't see you. I -- I just want to go home. Oh Ellie, when can we go home?” The last plea caught at my heart. What was I supposed to tell her?

“I don’t know, Immie,” I said softly. “But we’ll figure something out.”

I took her hand, and held it tight. “Uhm, excuse me, but --” I called out to the dryads, and the lead dryad, who was darker-skinned then the other two, her hair tinged with the red of fall, stopped. 

“What is it, youngling?” I slung my pack off my shoulders, and pulled out the small pouch of acorns.

“I think these are your acorns.” 

A true smile lit her face, a smile as light and beautiful as I would have expected. “You have done a noble thing for us, young one. Please, take our acorns to our queen, in the Windspear hills.”

I nodded. “I must ask one thing of you.” The dryad paused, looking frightened. “I search for a flask in order to free a genie. Have you seen such a thing?”

She relaxed, the tenseness leaving her posture. “You are very noble to risk your own safety to free the genie. We have the flask and shall give it to you.” Another dryad went back into the thick bushes, and returned a moment later with an intricately carved ceramic flask, identical to the one which held the genie bound.

“Thank you,” I said softly, “and farewell.” Instead of heading back into the main area, though, I continued to explore the underground forest. 

“What are you doing, child?” Jaheira asked. “We have the flask needed to free the genie, why do you not return to him?”

“There could be something down here. I don’t want to miss anything.” We followed what looked like a beaten dirt path through the underground forest grove. It lead us to a stone archway, beyond which I could see a bedroom, everything within it was simple, but stunning. In contrast to the rest of this place, this room was about light, beauty and nature. It reminded me of the dryads. 

“What . . . what is this place,” I gasped. 

“It's beautiful,” Imoen echoed.

My feet were carrying me forward, when a stone in the floor shifted slightly underneath my weight. I hopped backwards, but it was too late. A harsh ringing filled the air for a moment, and then stopped just as suddenly. The room now looked far more deadly, but nothing sprang out from behind a shelf to attack me. Someone would be coming to investigate, though, and I wanted to leave. Imoen simply was staring around the room, and I resigned myself to staying for a few more moments. 

*That was foolish, Mistress.* Numel swept through the archway to land on my shoulder. *You think this place is beautiful. That is quite acceptable, for beauty is important. But you cannot be distracted by beauty.* He flew into the room, and eyed the plate on the table. Somehow, there was still fruit sitting, unspoiled, atop the polished wood. Numel swept down to land on the table.

“Wait! Don’t!” I cried, seeing the trap a moment later. Numel jerked upwards, but I still heard an indigent squawk as his feathers were singed by a stream of fire. 

*And you shouldn’t be distracted by food.* I shot back, knowing he was uninjured and grateful to have a victory for once. *I found blackberries in the dryad’s room, and I’ve got some in my pack. If you’re that hungry, give me a minute and I’ll fish them out for you.*

*That would be far more acceptable, Mistress.* He replied, sounding contrite for once as he settled back onto my shoulder. 

“Oh, there is simply no way that this space belongs to the same person that owns those horrible glass containers.” Imoen’s voice held a note of wonder, as she looked over my shoulder into the room.

I frowned turning around to face her. “It must be his -- no one else actually lives down here.”

“No, it can't be. Not the person I know. This. . . this bed, that table . . . I know of them.” The wonder was gone from her voice, now. Her voice shook with every word. “He would. . . he would speak of them while. . . while he. . .” She wiped angrily at her cheek with the back of her hand. “It's -- It’s for a lost love, kept in perfect condition. She. . . she despises him. This is his monument to her. He spoke of all of this, but. . . but his voice was cold. . .” She leaned back against the stone of the archway. “No emotion at all, not even remembrances. He spoke of these things even while he cut. . . he cut. . .” Unexpectedly, she reached up and traced a finger along my cheek, tracing the new-formed scar, “. . . and the spells that wove through my brain . . . cold, ugly things . . .” 

“He can’t hurt you now, Immie,” I said softly, reaching up to cup her hand in mine. “You are among friends, now, and we won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Ellie is right!” Minsc crowed. “Boo and I are Immie’s friends, and Boo promises nothing bad will happen to you now. Minsc says so! Hear that, evil wizard!” He bellowed, “No one hurts my friends, lest they find my sword upon their backside!” Though I smiled at him, Imoen didn’t seem to notice he was there. 

“It still hurts,” she gasped, “his sick fingers are still in my head, doing whatever it was he started. I see blood. . . and death . . . behind my eyes. . . Irenicus. . .”

“Hush, children..” Jaheira came to stand before her, one hand on each of our shoulders. “Do not frighten yourself more by such behaviour.” Imoen bowed her head, unwilling to meet the druid’s eyes. She shrugged off Jaheira’s hand and moved a few steps into the room.

“Immie!” I cried. I could see the magical wards of at least five-- no, six traps in that room. She was lost to me now, seeing some twisted memory.

“This room,” she said slowly, “if he could care for anything he would care for this room. Above the lives of all of us. It makes me sick.”

“Immie, get out of there -- c’mon!” I cried. Imoen could probably found and disarmed the traps, but she wasn’t looking for them, and obviously hadn’t seen them. Besides, I wanted to be gone before someone else showed up. Startled by my voice, she turned and walked back, like a dreamer. 

“I would burn this place, but it is nothing. Even as it means so much, it is nothing.” She turned to stare at me, she had returned to where we stood just inside the door. “Let's do what we must and get out of this place, it’s making me sick,” she finished bitterly. 

“Let’s get out of here, before someone investigates that alarm.” I said, wishing we hadn’t delayed at all, and we ran back up the path. I motioned them to crouch down behind the shadow of a low-growing thick bush. I peered through the leaves. For a moment, I saw nothing, then two clay golems came lumbering down the path. “Uh oh.” I whispered in Jaheira’s ear. “Only you and me have weapons that can hurt them for sure.” My sword was magical enough to damage them, and anything magical and blunt, like Jaheira’s staff, would be devastating, but I wasn’t certain about the magic of Minsc’s sword or Imoen’s blades, and I didn’t want Imoen at the front, unarmoured, anyway.

“A good point, child.”

“Maybe they’ll just go away?” Immie said softly with a frantic edge in her voice..

“I doubt it,” I responded. “We probably activated them, and they’ll stay active ‘till someone shuts them off.” And I didn’t want to be around when that ‘someone’ showed up. Then I got an idea. 

“You’re going to have to cover for me for a bit,” I began. “I think I can distract them.”

I began the spell that would summon in other creatures to fight for us. I never knew quite what I would get until they appeared, though, and I was hoping I wouldn’t get something too weak. 

Jaheira and Minsc charged out and attacked the golems, while Imoen fired arrows at them from a distance.

As I finished my spell, three hobgoblins suddenly found themselves in the midst of this fight. Their weapons would be of no use, but they were a perfect distraction. With a simple mental command, they began to attack the golems.

I heard Minsc’s booming laugh and realized that his sword must be able to affect them. An added advantage, I thought. I muttered a quick Mage Amour. The incantation always seemed to take forever, but, I had the moment to do so, and it had saved my life more then once before. Then, pulling my own short sword, I charged the nearest golem, figuring it had enough to deal with already, harassed behind and in front by hobgoblins and Minsc. 

For a few moments, the battle went well, but then a massive fist slammed into Minsc, knocking him to the grass. “Oh no you don’t!” I yelled, slashing at the golem. My sword didn’t do enough to stop it, only scoring a deep line along its arm. I struck again, swinging my sword like a club, using the flat of the blade. I stood between the golem and Minsc, and it seemed to have focused its attentions on me. It swung out at me once, moving far faster then I would have thought it could. I ducked under its swing and stepped sideways, trying to lead it away from Minsc. It swung its other arm out again, and I jumped backwards, avoiding a massive clay fist that would have pulverized me if it had hit. 

“Hey! C’mere, you overgrown clay pot!” I cried, frustrated, and struck out again, swinging high. This blow connected, and the golem fell with a shattered head. Minsc was climbing slowly to his feet, holding a hand to his ribs. The other golem lay in several smashed pieces, and Jaheira came over to heal Minsc. I smacked the golem several more times, shattering its body, just to be sure it was dead. It was always hard to tell with constructs like golems. 

Leaving the others behind, I stuck my head in through the archway, and proceeded to disarm all the traps. It took quite a bit longer then I would have liked, but magical traps are very difficult to deactivate. My own magical training gave me a definite advantage.

Eventually, however, the last trap fell to my Dispel Magic and my tools. I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. I hated disarming magical traps. They made my eyes hurt.

“All clear,” I called. There were a few scrolls on the bottom shelf of the bookcase, and a smattering of gemstones and jewelry that we could sell if we escaped, as well as another one of those strange keys. It was the same as the first, but with different runes. I also found a pair of bracers that protected their wearer. I happily strapped them on. They wouldn’t interfere with my spellcasting, something that I was quite thrilled about. 

Despite all of the things we found, it was Imoen’s discovery that cheered us the most.

“What d’you think, Ellie?” she asked, holding up the large, ornate key. I grinned. 

“It looks like it could fit that portal,” I said, studying the runes on the side. “It could be our way out.”


End file.
